


Fifty

by demon_faith



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-16
Updated: 2010-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demon_faith/pseuds/demon_faith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto finds Jack. (Post-"Out of Time")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifty

**Author's Note:**

> Torchwood is just far too quick with the website updates! So this is actually an AU post-ep *sigh*. Forget Jack and Ianto's IM conversation ever happened and all will be fine.
> 
> Technically, Stopwatch fic, but not the happy, sexy kind. Sorry!

Jack still wasn't back.

The numbers ran on and on – three hours, six minutes, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven seconds.

He sat at the desk, waiting. Nothing. No phone call, no radio signal, not even a text to say everything was all right. So, what did that mean? Everything inside him was screaming that he had to go and find him, because something was very very wrong.

He listened.

Ianto went for his keys before remembering that they were gone. As was the SUV. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the phone and dialled.

"I'll like to book a taxi please."

Dragon never let him down.

~

He woke coughing and spluttering, dizzy and sick. The world was swinging around and around and he didn't quite understand what was going on. Where had he been? What was happening? Who was holding him and whispering in his ear?

"…breathe, deeply now. You'll feel better in a minute."

Mmm…that was a lovely voice. He'd pay to hear that. Wait…was he paying? Groaning, he tried to sit up, only to be gently forced back down.

"Easy, Jack. I don't know how many cycles you've been through. Keep calm and breathing."

That sounded like good advice. The feeling of his squashed-up guts pressing into his throat was slowly receding and he started to focus on the eyes worriedly peering into his. He hoped he was paying this one well – he was definitely worth it.

"Where…where did I find you?"

A smile then, bright and quick. "Skivvies R Us. Stop talking and keep breathing."

"Sounds…like fun," he gasped out, earning him a roll of the eyes. He never took orders well. Though sometimes, in Cardiff…

Memories trickled in from several different centuries and he remembered what he'd been doing and in whose car and…oh, Ianto.

"Jack? Can you hear me?"

"I hear you," he breathed, drawing in that vital oxygen and staring into those deep, concerned eyes. "And I'm sorry."

Ianto's lips twisted into what could have been a grin. "Ah, you've remembered then. Good – I can now kick your arse with impunity."

Jack found himself unceremoniously dumped on the garage floor as Ianto returned to his car and dragged John's body out, laying him out on the floor and walking away. Jack tried to edge towards him but the room hadn't really stopped spinning yet so he took a few more breaths to steady himself. Still, he wasn't going anywhere, and by the time, he'd managed to sit up without clenching his teeth, Ianto had John tucked away in the back of the SUV.

"How long was I out?" Jack muttered in Ianto's direction, not quite able to look at him. Ianto pulled the stopwatch from his pocket.

"Four hours, two minutes and five seconds," Ianto said in the cold, dead voice reserved for lies and betrayal. Jack swallowed hard.

"I didn't mean. Look, don't worry…I…it's just…"

"You wanted to try one more time. Were the forty-nine other times not enough for you? You had to make it a nice round fifty?"

Anger bled into all the lines of his face but Ianto regained control, shaking his head and making to walk away. Jack tried to follow but his limbs wouldn't cooperate and he found himself flopping along like a deranged seal.

"Please, Ianto…don't leave me."

Jack Harkness didn't beg. Ever. There was obviously something wrong with his brain. He could blame it on the gas, on the situation, on the week, but instead, he quietly placed it with the shaking, teary Welshman staring at him with something like love.

"I hate you, Jack," he whispered but he only meant it some days and Jack could live with that.

"Take me home, Ianto? Please?"

Silence, then steps, one two three, and he was hauled into deceptively strong arms, protected, warm. As he was driven back to the Hub, carried to his room and settled into bed with a strong cup of tea, Jack thought that maybe fifty was enough for a while. He laid his head on Ianto's shoulder and fell asleep.


End file.
